


Sons And Daughters

by coloursflyaway



Series: Kingsman Tumblr Prompts [14]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Adopted Children, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Mother's Day, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6732523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has everything he never thought he’d have - a husband he adores, two children, who fill their home with laughter and smiles - and since it’s Mother’s Day (and Harry is the pretty one), he gets a bit more, still.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sons And Daughters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rukimatsumoto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rukimatsumoto/gifts).



“Wake up, sleepy head”, a familiar voice mutters softly into his ear, lips brushing against the ridges of Harry’s ear, tickling him. He turns, or at least tries to, but before he can get his old, tired muscles to comply, there are two small bodies pinning him down, tiny hands on his chest, trying to pull back the blanket.  
“Wake up, wake up, wake up”, two voices chant, just as familiar by now, but higher, a lot more cheerful than his husband’s, who chuckles, brushes fingertips through Harry’s hair, the spider web of scars on his temple.   
Slowly, ever so slowly, because sunlight is brightening the room, making it almost unbearable after ten hours of sleep, Harry opens his eyes, blinking and groaning just a little bit at the sudden onslaught of sensations. The first thing he sees, just like on most days, is Eggsy’s face, the beginning crow’s feet around his husband’s eyes, the sharp jaw and the tousled hair, the sweet smile on his lips. For a second, just out of an impulse, he leans up, trying to steal a kiss, but stops when he becomes very aware of two pairs of eyes on them.

Eggsy must be too, because he chuckles, pecks Harry’s lips before he pulls back, lets Harry sit up. It’s amazing that something he is so used to by now – a home he shares with not just a man he loves more than his own life, but two children he calls his as well – can still make his heart swell with affection, with gratitude. There are a lot of people who deserve this kind of happiness more than him, and he knows it, like the parents Hannah and Zachary have lost during V-Day– but that doesn’t mean Harry values it any less. If anything, he values it more, never having expected to find peace like this, to find a family.  
But a family they are, and Harry can’t help but smile down at his boy and girl, reach out and pull them both into his arms.  
“Morning”, he mutters into Hannah’s hair, kisses her head, then Zach’s, laughs when the boy digs his tiny fingers into his ribs. “Unfair, darling, no tickling before papa before he has gotten out of bed.”  
Zachary pouts, but stops anyway, holds up his hands to show he’s being good, giggles when Harry rewards him with another kiss to his head.  

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”, Eggsy asks the kids gently after several moments have passed, makes Harry look up at his beautiful, far-too-good husband, who is holding something behind his back with one hand. “Something important? Which we came here to do?”  
Whatever it is he is talking about, it turns the two children on his lap from sweet and calm to excited – Zachary jumping up to look at whatever Eggsy is hiding, Hannah crying out with joy, almost headbutting Harry in the jaw when she pulls back, sits up.   
“Yes, please, can we? Can we show papa?”, Hannah asks enthusiastically, her blue eyes glowing as she reaches out, making grabby hands. “Please?”  
It makes Eggsy laugh softly, but he nods anyway. “Close ya eyes, babe?”  
He does, because in the end, he’ll always do what Eggsy asks of him, tries not to wince when Hannah pushes her bony knee into his stomach, but laughs when Zachary takes his chance to tickle him again. Almost, he scolds him again, just because he knows he should, but then decides that it’s too nice, too beautiful a morning to spoil it like that.

It takes a minute or two of excited giggling and chatter, then something heavy is placed in Harry’s lap, Hannah and Zach having found a new place to sit next to him, the boy’s arms wrapped around his waist. Eggsy joins them on the mattress at Harry’s feet, making it dip and putting a hand on Harry’s ankle and squeezing it.  
“I think ya can open ya eyes, babe.”’  
He does so for the second time of the short day, blinking twice before he looks down onto the hopeful, excited faces of his children, then his lap. There’s a cake waiting for him, a little bit malformed, the icing uneven; on top of it, it says _Happy Mother’s Day, Papa_ in crooked letters, the _M_ having been overwritten at least twice, the _y_ having been another _p_ in another life.   
It’s the most beautiful cake he has ever seen.

“And, do you like it?”, Zach asks with wide eyes, hardly giving him a second to look at it, and Harry has to blink back tears before he looks at his son properly, not wanting to let his children think even for a second that he is sad. “Daddy said you’d like it. And that you wouldn’t mind that Hannah misspelt everything.”  
“I didn’t misspell everything!”, comes the indignant response within a second, Hannah sticking out her tongue at her brother; Harry prevents any further fighting by pulling them into another hug, taking care not to squash the cake between them.   
“I love it”, he tells them, almost, but just almost, getting choked up once more. He distracts himself by dropping a kiss to each of their heads. “It’s the prettiest cake I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen a lot of cakes in my life.”  
“Prettier than all of them?”, Hannah asks, looking up at him with a huge grin, one of her front teeth missing. Harry wants to keep both of them like this forever, innocent and sweet and happy.  
“Absolutely. The prettiest cake in the world.”

 

Two hours later, after both Zach and Hannah have gotten bored with cuddling, Harry is lying on the couch with his head on Eggsy’s lap, his husband playing with his hair.  
“Why Mother’s Day, though?”, he asks, and for a second, he thinks that he is imagining it, but no, Eggsy is blushing.   
“That would be my fault, I guess”, he replies, even if it sounds more like a confession. “Well, and Mrs. Walker’s, y’know, Hannah’s teacher? They were talking about Mother’s Day at school, and apparently Mrs. Walker said something about the mother being the pretty one of the parents, and when Hannah got home, she asked who was the prettier one, you or me. I told her you were, and she immediately decided that she wanted to get you something for Mother’s Day… and Zach joined in, of course.”  
Eggsy is definitely blushing now, the red of his cheeks making him look even a little bit more handsome than usual, a little bit younger, and Harry can’t help but laugh, reach up to catch Eggsy’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips. He presses a kiss to the back of it, to his husband’s knuckles, before he lets go again.   
“ _I’m_ the pretty one?”, he asks, still smiling, and Eggsy rolls his eyes, but leans down to brush their lips together in a sweet kiss.   
“Fishing for compliments isn’t a very gentlemanly thing to do, babe.”  
“I don’t have to fish for anything. I’m the pretty one after all.”


End file.
